One More Day More
by EKSimmons
Summary: While Riggs fights for his life, Murtaugh becomes frustrated by the department's inability to find his shooter. Meanwhile, Molly struggles with how to tell Ben and figuring out her own feelings. - Continuation of final episode "One Day More" from Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

**One More Day More**

 **Following the season 2 (arguably series) finale.**

 _Shots fired._ The phrase echoed through Murtaugh's head as he sped toward the call location. For a moment, he nearly tried to tell Riggs not to shoot first, but the empty passenger seat gave him pause. Things were so different now. He was Captain of the department and Riggs was heading back to Texas. No more insane risks, no more unexpected… he didn't need to go on this call at all, but something made him want to do it. Trish would holler at him later, but he wanted one more ride in the saddle, one more thrill- _Damn Riggs_ _for that_ _anyway,_ he thought.

As he approached the cemetery, Murtaugh slowed. An elderly couple, phone still in hand, pointed down the street from their home toward the cemetery where they had heard the gun shot. Murtaugh gave them a nod and proceeded with caution. According to the dispatch, the shot was heard but no one had seen the shooter. There was no way to know if they were still hanging around or long since fled.

"I'll be damned if I'm gonna get shot now," he whispered to himself, imagining his comfy office.

The houses thinned and gave way as Murtaugh reached the outer edge of the cemetery. He began scanning every inch for a car, a person, movement of any kind. Empty air, the occasional flag flapping, and acres of headstones were all he saw. As he neared the far edge, his eyes scanned one last time. His breath stopped when he saw it. The bullet hole ridden heap parked along the street just around the corner from him.

"Damn," he muttered. "Just couldn't leave quietly, could you." He shook his head as he stopped the car and gathered his gun from the glove box. Murtaugh exited the car and began a slow approach toward the truck, gun drawn.

"Riggs?" he called, expecting the man to fall out of a tree or toss a whiskey bottle.

No response.

"Riggs?" he repeated louder.

Again, no response.

A cold chill ran the length of his spine. Murtaugh didn't know what scared him more- the empty graveyard or the silence from an otherwise boisterous ex-partner.

He reached the truck, only to find it empty. No sign of a shot. Murtaugh reached in and popped the glove box- the gun was still stowed away. The chill turned to ice. Murtaugh spun around and began a hurried creep toward Miranda's headstone. He hoped any trail would start there.

Two more squads pulled up behind his car, one with Bailey and Bowman.

"Cap?" Bailey inquired as they exited.

"Keep your eyes pe..." Murtaugh began, freezing up when he spotted the familiar boot.

"Sir?" Bowman frowned, waiting for the rest of the instructions.

"Bailey! Tell dispatch we need the ambulance here NOW!" Murtaugh ordered as he tucked his gun into the back of his pants and ran to Riggs.

Bailey looked at Bowman and nodded for him to call. He returned to the vehicle to radio dispatch while Bailey gathered the first aid kit from the trunk.

"Dammit, Riggs! I'm here." Murtaugh collapsed on his knees next to his friend. He could hear the ragged breathing. Riggs' eyes were still open, but glazed over.

"Hang on," Murtaugh choked as he jammed his palms into the wound. He could hear a faint groan. The blood oozed over his hands, causing him to pull away. As he reached to place his hands again, Bailey reached him with gauze. Murtaugh rolled up a wad and jammed that back into the wound.

"I got this-secure the area," he ordered. Bailey nodded and signaled to Bowman to work around the side.

"Don't you do it, Riggs. You're going to Texas with Molly and Ben. You're going to live happy ever after. Don't you make me explain this to Molly. Come on, Riggs. We were passed this. You can't quit on all of us now. We put too much time into fixing you. You hear me? No dying. Don't you start my tenure with this."

* * *

Murtaugh plopped into the driver's seat with a sigh. He stared at his blood soaked hands, fighting the voice trying to remark about getting it on the upholstery. A slow, dark video played in his mind over and over- seeing Riggs in the dirt, the blood running over his fingers, all the way to his best friend coding as they placed him in the ambulance.

He felt bad asking Bailey and Bowman to secure everything- he was their friend too- but he knew the inevitable phone call he was about to make was going to take everything he could muster.

It didn't help much, but instinct made him wipe his bloody hands on his pants. There was still enough to transfer to his phone as he dialed.

"Hello, Roger," Trish chirped. She stood in the kitchen with Riana and RJ, cleaning up the Farewell Riggs party mess.

He hesitated responding.

"Roger?" Trish's face and voice both fell as she repeated his name.

"Trish, I need you to grab Molly and bring her to the hospital."

"Hospital?!" Trish gasped. The kids' faces froze as she said it. "Roger, what happened?"

"Riggs was shot."

"Shot? Oh my god," she swallowed. "How bad is it?"

"It's not good," he replied shortly.

"Understood." Trish hung up the phone, swallowed her tears, and took a deep breath.

"Did Dad get shot?" Riana demanded.

"No..." Trish sighed. "Riggs."

"Seriously? How..."

"I don't know. I need you to watch Harper for me."

Riana nodded.

"RJ, come with me," Trish continued as she began to head for her keys.

"Why?" he asked indignantly.

Trish glared at him. "You really want to argue right now?"

"No." He hung his head slightly.

"Get in the car."

* * *

Roger paced, watching the doors. The admitting nurse begged him to take a seat. Just before he could retort, he heard a voice behind him.

"Roger." Trish called. She stood next to Molly, just off his back shoulder. Both women appeared shaken, their eyes bloodshot from the held back emotions.

"Molly, I'm..." Murtaugh began.

"Is he?" she stated, trying to remain stoic.

"No, no. He's in surgery. Pretty touch and go there for a while..."

"It's okay, Roger." Trish grabbed his hand to stop his babbling. She winced at the blood still coating his hands and noticed it all over his clothes. The revelation hit Molly as well. She felt the wave of emotion soar over her walls and fell into the first chair she could.

"I'm not sure why I'm surprised. It had to happen, right?" Molly muttered as she stared at them. "He couldn't have 'normal.' He wouldn't know how."

Trish took the seat next to her and placed her non bloody hand on her shoulder. "It isn't anybody's fault."

"HELL YES it is!" Roger interjected. "It IS somebody's fault. Somebody pulled that trigger and I'm gonna nail them."

Trish shot him a wide-eyed 'shut up' look.

"You nail that bastard before I do," Molly spat.

* * *

"I appreciate you guys doing this. We were supposed to be on the road by now," Molly wrung her hands as she glanced around the Murtaugh's kitchen. Trish handed her a glass of water.

"It's what family does," Trish offered. Molly tried to smile as she swallowed.

Trish inhaled loudly. "So Ben is in RJ's room, you can sleep in Riana's room since she's in with Harper."

"I don't think I can sleep."

"It's hard, but you need to try. Roger will call us the moment he's out of surgery. Until then, the only thing we can do is take care of ourselves. No use to anybody to drop from exhaustion."

After a moment, Molly nodded her understanding and took one last swallow. She slid the glass towards the center of the island and made her way upstairs. Trish sighed as she realized she had to try and follow her own advice.


	2. Chapter 2

The dark door frame stared back at him, taunting him. Murtaugh breathed dramatically in and out, in and out.

"What do you have to be nervous about? You've seen him a mess plenty of times." Murtaugh snorted and strode into the room.

"Hi, oh sorry!" he apologized as he saw the strange face in the bed. His feet made a full about as he scurried toward the door, mortified.

As he approached the door, he paused. His nose twitched and his brow furrowed. Murtaugh stepped backward and peered at the patient again. He ran his eyes up the arms, noting each tattoo, the floppy mop of hair, the… it finally hit him. The reason he couldn't recognize the face. That mustache was gone, replaced by the medical tape holding the tube run up the left nostril.

Murtaugh snorted. "Finally got rid of that cat on your face."

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupted.

"What?" Murtaugh spun around to see the nurse brush past him.

"I just need to check this," she stated as she reached for the IV bag.

"What is that?" he asked, nodding toward Riggs, oblivious to her inability to see his gesture.

"The IV bag?" she asked as she glanced back.

He shook his head and snorted, "No, I _know_ what that is. I meant that." He pointed at the tube.

"That's a feeding tube. We have to be sure to keep him nourished until he can eat for himself," she explained and made her way out.

His whole body cringed at the thought. After a moment to regain his composure, Murtaugh laughed to himself as he looked for his thoughts.

"Thank you, Riggs. I always said you were gonna end up in a graveyard or a hospital from the moment we met. Thank you for proving me right. Though you missed the _or_ part of the sentence. It is a crucial conjunction." Murtaugh sighed. "Trish and Molly are on their way over. I'm on my way to the station. I won't rest until we get this guy. I promise. Though, if you want to help out with that, I mean wake your ass up and tell us, I'm good with that."

"Roger?" Trish's voice sounded softer than usual.

"Hey, how is everybody doing?' He motioned the ladies in.

Molly balked as she turned the corner. "Wow."

"Right?!" he held an open palm up in emphasis.

"I don't think I've seen him clean shaven since we were kids. A little weird now."

"So it wasn't always there, permanently attached?" Murtaugh joked.

"What did they say?" Trish redirected.

"They stopped the bleeding. The bullet nicked his liver but there shouldn't be any complications from that. He coded a couple times, but he's stable now. Well, stable in the medical sense..."

"Roger."

He rolled his eyes. "They're worried about possible nerve or brain damage from the lack of blood flow while he coded. Said they won't know until he wakes up."

"Which is?" Molly already knew the answer.

"They don't know. But he's breathing on his own, that's a good sign," he offered. Molly seemed less than enthused in response to his comfort attempt.

"We'll give you a few minutes," Trish smiled as she tugged Roger's arm. "Come on."

* * *

"Roger," Trish fretted once they entered the hallway.

He grinned. "It's Riggs, he'll be fine."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"What ARE you worried about?"

"Molly."

"She seems okay to me."

"No, Roger. She's terrified. She hasn't told Ben yet."

"Maybe she was waiting for the information. You know kids, they ask a lot of questions."

"It's more than that. I think she's scared she'll have to break his heart."

* * *

Molly took a deep breath as she sat beside Riggs. She tapped her fingertips gently on his hand.

"I'm sorry, Martin. After everything with Jake, I thought I could handle everything." She wiped a tear away. "But I can't. I don't know how to tell Ben. At least with Jake, he had grown up expecting it. It took him so long to warm up to you, but he did. I don't know how to tell him this. I need you to be there, Martin. I need you to be okay. To tell me it will be okay."

* * *

"You mean Riggs' heart?" Roger asked Trish.

"I don't know. I'm worried about them."

"It'll be fine. It always works out, right?" He rubbed her arm as he spoke. She stared at him unconvinced. He smiled and gave her a kiss.

"Roger, what was that?"

"What? I can't kiss my wife goodbye?"

She glared. "Roger?"

"I have to go. I have a bad guy to catch."

"Roger! You're exhausted. You've been up all night."

"Nah, I got five minutes before in the chair."

Trish shook her head in defeat.


	3. Chapter 3

"Morning, sir. What's the word?" Bailey inquired as Murtaugh entered the department. Everyone stopped and watched, all eager for the same answer.

"He's stable, but they won't know much 'til he wakes up," Murtaugh replied. "I'd like to have this scumbag in lockup before he does, so whadda ya got?"

Bailey inhaled and started toward the boards in the corner. "Not much, unfortunately. Ballistics has the casing, but there weren't any prints or DNA that could be gathered. Since it was a cemetery, there's no cameras or nosy neighbors. Plenty of people heard the shot, but nobody saw anything. No cars, nobody fleeing on foot, nothing."

"Nothing? How do we have nothing? We're the L-A-P-D. We gotta have something."

"We've started checking alibis for anyone with a grudge- but it's going to take a long, long time. You guys ticked off a LOT of people."

"I know, Bailey, thank you," he sniped as they stopped in front of two boards full of names. His eyes widened. "There has to be a thousand names on here."

"One thousand three hundred and sixty two to be exact," Bowman corrected from his desk.

"And this is just here. We're still waiting on the list from Texas," Bailey added.

"Pull anyone you need, I have to update the mayor and the bosses." Murtaugh headed for his office and paused. He turned around. "Bailey, don't forget to check anyone that has it in for Delgado still."

"Delgado?"

"Riggs is still family. I don't want to miss this guy simply because we got lazy."

"Right," Bailey groaned as Murtaugh disappeared into his office. "Looks like we're adding a few..."

* * *

"Hold it!" Bowman huffed as he chased the young man down the sidewalk. The man glanced back at him before veering down an alleyway. Bowman sighed and continued to chase. He turned the corner in time to see the man near the other end.

"I said stop," Bowman breathed. The man glanced back again as he turned the corner, slamming into Bailey's arm.

He fell back on his butt and immediately cowered. "I'm sorry! Don't tell my girl!"

"What now?" Bailey scowled.

"He's quick..." Bowman gasped as he caught them.

"The pot… that's why you chased me, isn't it?" the man cried.

"Actually we chased you because you ran when we asked to speak to you. Didn't see the drugs, but we'll be happy to collect those too," Bailey explained with a grin.

The man frowned. "If you weren't here to arrest me for the drugs, then why talk to me?"

"We're investigating the shooting of a police officer. Where were you yesterday afternoon?" Bowman explained, finally catching his breath.

"Shooting? I didn't shoot anybody. Definitely didn't shoot a cop. I swear. I was with my girlfriend. Her family had a big BBQ. You can ask them, they was glaring at me all day."

"Girlfriend got a name?" Bailey asked.

"Loraine. Loraine Delco."

"Delco? As in the supermarket baron?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to clean up my act, please don't tell her I slipped. Her family hates me and if she finds out I was smoking weed, she'll dump me."

Bailey rubbed her face in disbelief and frustration. "You skip town on me, and I'll sky write it. You get me?"

"Scout's honor!" He fumbled his fingers before Bailey tipped her head for him to leave.

"You let him go?" Bowman frowned.

"He wasn't that hard to catch. Besides, that's definitely not our guy."

* * *

"You let him go?" Murtaugh's eyes were wide as saucers.

"He didn't do it," Bailey answered.

"You didn't know that for sure."

"Didn't have cause to arrest him either."

"Just..." Murtaugh snorted his disgust at her logical argument. She smiled uncomfortably, waiting for him to decide the next move.

"Captain?" she dared.

He scrunched his face and breezed out of his office onto the department floor. She silently mouthed the word okay and followed him.

"So where are we at?" he demanded.

"We've eliminated thirty three possibles," Bowman chirped from his desk, a phone against his ear.

"Thirty three? That's progress."

"Yeah, arrested half of them on unrelated charges. They keep confessing to other crimes when we ask about shooting Riggs," Bowman added.

"Really," Murtaugh rolled his gaze toward Bailey. She rolled her eyes.

"We also added nearly three thousand more names to the list from Texas and Delgado's files," she replied.

Murtaugh pinched the bridge of his nose. "So we've checked off thirty three out of four thousand?"

"Yep."

"We need to figure out how to narrow this down faster. You're sure we didn't miss anything at the crime scene?"

"Positive. Bowman and I secured and oversaw every inch of that cemetery."

"What about the ballistics report on the casing? Did we get that info?"

"It wasn't much help. If we find the gun, we can match it, but it was pretty common ammo and nothing to connect it to the shooter."

"Dammit. What are we missing here?"

"I can answer that." The voice startled them both. They turned to see Scorsese standing behind them.

"You have an answer, Scorsese? Let's hear it. The SHORT version, please," Murtaugh insisted.

"I don't have the answer that way, but I do know what you missed to help narrow this list."

"We're waiting, Scorsese."

"Okay, I compared your descriptions of the scene and the medical reports. You said Riggs was positioned like this." Scorsese lay down on the floor, mimicking Riggs.

"Yeah." Murtaugh bit his tongue to let the young man get to his point.

"Just like this? No turned or twisted limbs, nothing moved out this way?" Scorsese shifted his right arm up away from his body as he asked the last question.

"No, just like that."

"Okay, so we have a straight fall, no indication of any attempt to fight or flee. No sign of any kind of defensive move."

Bailey's jaw fell slightly as she began to understand Scorsese's point.

"How does this help us narrow this list?" Murtaugh demanded as Scorsese stood back up.

"According to the medical reports, Riggs was shot straight on in the lower chest, from the front, at a very close range. This means our shooter was standing, and directly in front of him. It's a cemetery, so there isn't really much for cover when you're standing up." Scorsese used his hands to demonstrate each comment.

"I'm on zero sleep here, Scorsese, so spell it out."

"He means Riggs saw the shooter, and didn't make any attempt to defend himself when it happened," Bailey explained.

"Exactly," Scorsese grinned as he pointed both index fingers at Bailey.

"So, he knew the shooter and wasn't expecting the shot." Murtaugh finally caught on.

"Which means we can eliminate a lot of names off of this list. Anyone Riggs didn't know personally, anyone with a violent background..." Bailey looked at the boards.

"Let's get on it." Murtaugh clapped. Bailey set to work scratching off names.

Scorsese watched them all scurry. "You're welcome," he sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sooo…. Eddie," Murtaugh grinned, a twinkle to his eye, as he stared across the table. The large build of his interrogation suspect shifted, indifferent to his scare tactic.

"Where's my coffee?" Eddie spat as he crossed his arms.

Murtaugh shrugged. "Let's talk about shooting an officer..."

"I ain't shot nobody. Nice try."

"Really? So, the missing round in your gun just walked off, I suppose?"

"Damn squirrel."

"A squirrel you say? Big squirrel, huh?"

"Small enough to get away." Eddie grinned.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._

"And that would be the ballistics report. Last chance to come clean..." Murtaugh backed toward the door.

"I'll wait for my lawyer," Eddie scoffed.

Murtaugh opened the door. "Bailey."

"He didn't do it," she muttered, standing in the hall with a file folder.

"Just a minute." Murtaugh held a finger up and smiled at Eddie before joining Bailey in the hall.

Once the door closed, he growled, "What do you mean 'he didn't do it'?"

"Ballistics came back. It isn't a match," Bailey sighed.

"The right gun type, recently fired, and his alibi didn't pan out. How can he _not_ be the guy?!" Murtaugh howled.

"I looked into that. There was a report of a shot fired near his home. Neighbors complained but didn't file charges after it was determined the shot was into a tree."

"The squirrel was a literal squirrel? Damn, I thought it was a metaphor."

Bailey scowled with confusion. "Anyway, found out his alibi was bad because he was having an affair. He lied to us to keep the truth from his wife. Bowman has sworn statements from the mistress and the hotel clerk who checked them in."

"So back to square one."

"Not exactly. Ballistics didn't match Eddie's gun, but they did match another."

"They matched our shooter? Finally. Who is it?"

"That's the thing. They matched a gun found in a dumpster about a mile from the scene."

"Let me guess, no serial number and no prints?"

"Yeah. Number was filed off and any prints or DNA that may have been on it was destroyed by the dumpster contents."

"Why does it feel like every step forward leads us backwards?" Murtaugh shook his head.

"The alley the dumpster is in is a dead end, only open at one end."

"How does that help?" Murtaugh sighed.

"Our shooter should be on tape entering and exiting the alley. An apartment overlooking the entrance installed a camera trying to catch vandals in the act. We're waiting on the footage."

"Finally looking up. Let me know the second you have it. In the meantime, I have to let our friend go and play nicey nice with him."

"Aye, Cap."

* * *

Molly stared at her coffee cup as she sat on the Murtaugh's couch. Trish sat next to her.

"How are you doing?" Trish pried.

"Had to take a break."

"I won't say I understand completely, but I do have some. I was confused when Roger had his heart attack. The stress was enormous." Trish paused to take a breath and collect her thoughts.

"How did you deal with it?"

"I continued to remind myself how strong he is, how strong I am, and how much our children needed that strength."

"I get it. I do, but… I'm stuck. I know I'll make it, but the question is where do I go now? What do I do first?" Molly took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Who knows how long Martin may be there. I can't just head for Texas now. I'm still not sure how to explain to Ben why we're still here. So far, he thinks Martin is on a case, but that can't hold much longer. And I have to have a reason to set us back up here to stay longer. Probably going to lose the house. I can't really afford to get a new place here and keep that one with the truck income."

"Don't worry about that. You and Ben are free to stay here as long as you need."

"You and Roger and the kids have been more than accommodating. We can't keep taking advantage of your hospitality. I can't take that on top of everything else."

"You aren't taking advantage, but I hear you. Roger and I will be here, whatever you decide," Trish assured her as she placed her hand on Molly's arm.

"I appreciate it."

* * *

Murtaugh strode up to Bailey's desk and tapped his fingers on the edge.

"Let's see this bastard's face." He leaned in to see her monitor.

Bailey rolled her eyes at his proximity to her face, but bit her tongue.

"I isolated the footage starting right after the shot." She clicked the button to play.

The grayscale grainy footage of an empty building corner and open alley lit her screen. After a minute, Murtaugh began tapping his foot.

"Can we speed this up?" he groaned.

"Yeah," Bailey agreed. She clicked a button to fast forward the tape. A stray dog and several pigeons crossed the screen as the minutes ticked.

"Come on, come on."

"There," Bailey paused the video on a figure exiting the alley. She tapped the clock in the corner of the screen.

"Twenty five minutes after Riggs was shot. Seems right for our guy."

Bailey frowned. "He's exiting the alley, not entering."

"It's an alley. There has to be doors from the buildings, right?"

"Yeah, there's a couple businesses on that block."

"Well, right now, I want a face and a name. We can ask him how he got there once his ass is in lock-up." He tried enlarging the image on her screen, minimizing the screen instead. "How do you make this clearer?"

"I got this." Bailey swatted his hands away. She skimmed the video for the clearest face angle and enlarged. "That's as good as it gets."

"That's it?" Murtaugh squinted at the screen. His suspect faced away from the camera as he moved. Bailey paused it on a slight head turn. The tip of the nose and a corner of one eye were visible.

"That's it."

"So we have a short haired white guy. That narrows it down."

"I can try to clean it up, but the majority of his features are out of the line of sight."

"Forget it. See if you can figure out how he got into the alley. Maybe someone can ID him."

"On it, sir."

Murtaugh rubbed his nose as he trudged back to his office in defeat.


	5. Chapter 5

Murtaugh pushed his keyboard away and rubbed his temples. He could hear the rumbles of noise out on the floor as the department hummed along on a dozen different cases. Only one mattered to him at the present, and it was the only one that seemed to be laughing at him. Bailey had been striking out with the businesses one by one. She and Bowman were off to meet one last owner that afternoon.

The ring of his cellphone nearly disappeared into the background noise as Murtaugh wished he was out on that floor. His brain caught the last ring before voicemail picked up.

"Murtaugh," he responded absently.

"I hope so, Roger," Trish's voice responded.

Roger's eyes grew wide. "Sorry, I didn't look who was calling before I answered. I'm sorry, dear sweet forgiving wife of mine."

"It's fine, Roger. I understand. I guess you are really busy right now?"

"No. Busy waiting, but not busy busy. What do you need?"

"Molly is taking Ben to the hospital. She decided to tell him what's going on, and I was hoping you could go offer some moral support."

"Wouldn't you be more appropriate? As a fellow mom, that is."

"I meant Ben, Roger. It would be nice if he had a male to talk to if he's not comfortable with his mom."

"Oh, that way. I did want to get an update on Riggs anyway. I'll have Bailey let me know when she finds something out."

"Thank you. Love you. I have a meeting starting, gotta go."

Roger put the cellphone down and picked up the receiver of his desk phone.

"Bailey..."

* * *

Molly pulled into the parking stall and shut off the car. Ben looked out the window at the towering hospital building.

"Mom, this isn't the grocery store."

"I know. Ben, there's something I need to tell you. It isn't easy and I'm not proud of keeping it from you."

"I know," Ben sighed.

"What do you know?"

"Riggs. RJ told me. You've been really upset so I asked him if he knew what was going on. I promised I wouldn't get him in trouble. Please don't tell the Murtaughs he told me."

Molly laughed to herself. "You knew? Why didn't you tell me? Here I've been so nervous about how you would react."

"You didn't tell me."

"I deserve that. I'm sorry. I never wanted to lie to you, Ben. I'm not excusing it."

"Mom."

"Okay." Molly took a deep breath. "I'm sure you have questions and things you wanna say, so, lay it on me."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Ben chewed his lip as he stared at his feet.

Molly stared ahead. "There's a good chance he's going to be fine."

"But there's a chance he won't?" He looked at her with tears ready to fall.

She returned his gaze. "There is. But you know Martin is as tough as they come. He's going to come through this. He will."

Ben nodded at her.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell RJ I told on him."

Molly laughed. "I promise."

* * *

Murtaugh knocked on the door frame as he entered the room. Molly and Ben both watched him enter from their seats on the right side of the bed.

"How's he doing?" Murtaugh asked.

"No change, but I guess that is good in a way," Molly responded.

"Yeah," he replied as he stopped across from them on the left side of the bed.

"Any progress on finding who did it?"

"We located the gun and are hopefully closing in on the suspect."

"You know who it is then?"

"Not exactly, but we have some leads. We'll get him."

"Are you sure they're still here to get caught? They've had time to get anywhere by now."

"This is Riggs. Somebody wants him dead and they got that close… they're gonna stick around to make sure they finish the job. Whoever he is, he's still here. I have no doubt."

"You don't think we could be in danger, do you?" Molly grabbed Ben's hand.

"No. They've had plenty of opportunity already. This is definitely personal. They want Riggs, just Riggs. And I'm pretty sure they want him to know it, or they would have tried something here already. Though it might not be a bad idea to put a Uni out there, now that I think about it."

"I need some air." Molly stood up.

"Mom? I'm kind of hungry," Ben interrupted.

"We did miss lunch, didn't we?" she sighed.

"Why don't you guys go grab something to eat. I'll keep an eye here and let you know if anything changes," Murtaugh insisted.

"Okay. Thank you, Roger," Molly agreed and walked Ben out the door.

Murtaugh pulled a chair up to the bedside.

* * *

"Sorry I can't say we caught him yet, but we're getting close. We'll get him." Murtaugh sighed and looked at the clock. He didn't realize how long he had sat there talking to Riggs, giving him a rather detailed account of the case progress and setbacks.

A few rumbles and murmurs rose from the bed. Murtaugh's jaw lowered in sync with his widening eyes. He leaned in close over the bed.

"Riggs?"

"Lay off the aftershave, Rog. You tryin' a kill me?" the scratchy, weak retort answered.

"Riggs! You're awake! Yes, okay, what do I do?" Murtaugh babbled in glee.

"Decaf, Rog," Riggs snipped again.

Murtaugh dashed out into the hallway.

"Doctor, nurse, aide, whatever! He's awake! He's awake. Whatever you gotta do," he shouted to no one in particular before rushing back in. He found Riggs lightly running his finger along his bare upper lip.

"Rog?"

"Don't blame me. I didn't do it."

Riggs grasped the tube as best he could with his left hand, peeling the tape up with his right.

"Wait for the doctor..." Murtaugh urged as Riggs tugged the tube partway out. "What did I say?"

Riggs winced and finished tugging the tube. He dropped it to his side and rubbed his now sore nasal area.

"Still crazy. Guess that coma didn't mess with your brain too much," Murtaugh snorted as he shook his head.

"Personally, I would have waited for the nurse to do it. But, to each," the doctor's voiced echoed briefly. The boys turned to see the doctor and nurse in the doorway.

"See." Murtaugh crossed his arms with a smug smile.

"Captain Murtaugh, if you wouldn't mind giving us a few minutes to check out Mr. Riggs. See that everything is still in running order."

"Right. Need anything, Riggs?"

"A drink, tall, stiff would be good," Riggs offered, clearing his scratchy throat for emphasis.

"Water it is," Murtaugh sassed and exited.

After pinning down an aide to get him a cup of water, Murtaugh found a quiet spot in the hallway and dialed his phone.

"Molly? He's awake."

"How does he seem?"

"Crazy as ever."

"Thank god," she sighed. She smiled across the restaurant table at Ben. Their food partially consumed.

"Don't worry about rushing. Doc is in there now giving him a once over and he could use the time to get himself together. Takes a little while to shake out the cobwebs."

"Thank you, Roger. That is such a relief. We'll be done here soon and be right over."

"Any time."

"Sir? You shouldn't have that here. Please put it away," a passing nurse insisted.

"Sorry, gotta go. I'm being scolded for calling in the hospital." Murtaugh hung up and looked at the time. Trish would still be in her meeting. As the nurse passed back through, he quickly texted Trish and Bailey to apprise them of the news. He muted his phone and put it back in his pocket to wait for the doctor.

"Here you go." The aide returned and handed him a cup with a straw.

"Thanks," he offered as she left. He leaned against the wall and watched the door.

* * *

"Cap says Riggs is awake and talking," Bailey announced to the room. Several cheers erupted.

"Did he say who shot him?" Bowman hoped as the cheers died down.

"Doesn't say. I'm gonna say no since he didn't ask us to pick anyone up."

"Darn."

"The video from the restaurant should be here any minute. Luckily, they had cameras in the hall to prevent any theft. Since they leave the rear door unlocked during business hours, it is a likely place for our suspect to get through. And this time, we should get a face."

Her computer pinged as an alert popped up on the screen.

"Is that it?" Bowman asked.

Bailey clicked the email open.

"Yep, this is it."

She checked the time stamp in the corner and fast forwarded to the suspected window. Bowman leaned over her shoulder to watch. They observed two employees haul trash out to the dumpster. The employees returned and entered an employee bathroom off the hall. A moment later, a figure began to slink down the hall. As he neared the camera, they were able to recognize the clothing.

"That's our guy. Now just to see his face." Bailey smiled and squinted at the screen as her finger hovered over the pause button.

The figure grew clearer and clearer. His face filled half the screen when Bailey clicked the button.

"Isn't that..." Bowman began.

"Garrett Riggs," Bailey breathed. She dialed her phone and waited. No answer.

"That isn't a very nice brother," Bowman observed.

Bailey rolled her eyes as she hung up a second dial. "Cap's not answering."

"Maybe he's back in the ICU and can't answer. They can be kinda strict about that," Bowman suggested.

"You and I are taking a little ride then."

* * *

Murtaugh spotted the doc and nurse leaving.

"What's the word?"

"Physically, he seems to be recovering well. He's got a few mild memory loss issues, not all that unusual for coma patients. They may be temporary, may not, but it shouldn't impact him too much. We'll still observe him for a while to be sure nothing unexpected happens, but he's recovering quite decent. It will be some time for him to recover the strength and muscle control to be moving around, so he needs to stay on bed rest for the time being."

"Good luck with that, doc. Thank you." Murtaugh gave a nod and made his way in.

"Hey, Rog, I'm gonna live!" Riggs laughed, his dry throat changing it to a coughing fit quickly. The nurse had adjusted the bed to bring him to a more seated position.

"Drink this before you hack up a lung." Murtaugh shoved the water at him.

Riggs stared at the straw a moment before opting to drink without it.

"I gotta know, Riggs. Who shot you?" Murtaugh sat back in his chair again.

Riggs choked on the water a moment and placed the cup on the edge of the side table. "Honestly, I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You were shot almost point blank. You had to have seen him."

"I remember leaving the party, calling Molly to tell her I had one more stop, and saying goodbye to Miranda. Nothing after that until I heard you babbling away just before. Kind of glad I slept through most of that."

Murtaugh scowled at him. "Are you messing with me? Because this is _not_ the time."

"Come on, Rog. Would I mess with you?"

"ALL THE TIME." Murtaugh dragged out each syllable.

"Okay, I do remember having a conversation in the middle there."

"There we go. Who with?"

"Miranda." Riggs blinked slowly as he looked Murtaugh straight on. The dead seriousness was unmistakable.

Murtaugh nodded. "Scorsese figured you know the shooter because you didn't try to defend yourself at all. Figured you didn't anticipate the shot. Also, we have a blurry video of a white guy with short hair possibly dumping the gun. Does that ring any bells?"

"No. But you might want to ask him." Riggs pointed toward the door with his nose.

Murtaugh turned around to see Garrett standing two feet away, staring at them both.


	6. Chapter 6

"Shit," Murtaugh muttered. He stood up, keeping his hands out for Garrett to see. Martin quickly noted Murtaugh's service weapon on him.

"Garrett, right?" Murtaugh eased forward toward the man.

 _Damn it, Rog,_ Martin thought as Murtaugh ended up well out of his reach.

"Listen, I know you wanna kill Riggs, believe me- I have those moments sometimes. But it gets messy, and I have to arrest you, and there's prison, and is that really worth it? No." Murtaugh scanned Garrett as he talked, noting the lack of a weapon. He hoped that meant he could reason with him.

Garrett snorted sharply.

"That's it. Let it out." Murtaugh reached to grab the young man's shoulder. Garrett responded less than kind. He grabbed Murtaugh's gun with his left hand, drawing Murtaugh's attention.

While his partner reacted to the grab, Martin opened his mouth to warn him about the right hand. "Rog!" he managed before Garrett's right fist landed on Murtaugh's temple.

Murtaugh stumbled into the bed as Garrett pulled the gun free. The young man grinned as he struck his foe with the weapon, knocking him flat.

Martin crinkled his nose. "Watch for the right hook," he sighed. He pushed himself up straight in the bed. His heart began to race.

Garrett stood there staring at the gun in his hands for a moment. The hesitation gave Martin hope he could talk him down, or at least stall him.

"Hey, Garrett. Come on. Is this really what you want? You didn't wait for me to wake up just so you could shoot me again, did you? No, that's weak. You can't do that, right? He wouldn't approve of that, and that's what you want. His approval. That's all you ever wanted." Martin hoped he was hitting the right buttons.

His brother lifted his eyes to stare at him. His head tilted slightly with a sly smile. He tossed the gun to the floor behind him.

"There you go. See. Now I think we understand each other, what do you say?" Martin breathed a little easier.

Garrett slowly stepped over Murtaugh to Martin's side.

"Okay, it might be a little too soon for a hug." Martin held up a finger, trying to ward him off.

"Sorry I shot you," Garrett spat.

Martin couldn't hide the surprise on his face as his brow rose. He attempted to process the unexpected apology, when Garrett's right hook reappeared in his face. The impact threw his head back into the bed. His eyes watered and the room began to spin. He could barely see his brother moving next to him.

Garrett grinned as he spotted the discarded feeding tube hanging off the bed. He grabbed the tube and wrapped it around his brother's throat.

"You're right. He'd much rather approve of this," Garrett growled gleefully.

He grasped both sides of the tube in one hand, tugging them tight with the other.

Martin attempted to grab the tube, but his brother swatted his hand away. Garrett turned his wrist, pulling the tube tighter as his free hand continued to fend off Martin's reach.

After failing to grab the tube, the elder brother attempted to push off his younger sibling. Martin pushed Garrett's shoulder and face, but the younger brother was easily able to shrug him off. A laugh bellowed out of the winner with each attempt. Martin couldn't beat him. He refused to accept the age difference as an excuse, but he had to admit the young man's fiery vengeance was too much for his coma weakened body.

Air came in only small gasps. Martin knew he needed to try something else. He began fumbling for the call button. Garrett spotted his hand moving around near the remote.

"This is between you and me," he hissed. He punched Martin's chest, directly into the gunshot wound.

Every nerve in his chest screamed as Martin attempted to cry out. A choke was all that could escape his pinched airway. His chest and head were a riot of pain, parts of his body were going numb from the asphyxiation. Martin was feeling desperate. He scanned the room for anything that he could use.

There, to his left, the only thing in his reach. He grabbed the water cup and threw the contents into his opponent's face.

Garrett retreated a step in shock. He released the tube, instinctively trying to protect his face.

Martin rolled to his side, drawing in big gasps of air. Each inhale was marked by an audible squeal as the air entered his empty lungs. He coughed, choking on the rush of air.

A snort sounded from the foot of the bed. Garrett's eyes burned. He stomped forward, rolled Martin's shoulder back against the bed and punched his nose as hard as he could.

The elder Riggs felt the blood begin running down his lips. His vision was a blur of colors. He attempted to grab his brother, but the younger was easily able to knock the feeble hands away yet again.

Garrett once again grasped the tube. He gave it several twists, watching it dig deep into the skin, before holding it tight.

Martin found himself flail, unable to feel portions of his limbs, and out of options. A feeling he was all too familiar with overtook him. Hopeless apathy, the friend he'd held so long since his family died. He had hoped it was dead, but now he felt it creep into his mind once again. He was about to die, again, at the hands of his own flesh and blood. A chill set in as he began to blackout.

 _BANG!_

A single sharp inhale, followed by a slow exhale was the only sound in the room. Molly stared at the gun in her hands a second, before dropping it back on the floor. Her eyes moved back toward the bed. Garrett lay motionless over Martin's upper body.

"Martin?" she managed to cry. No response, no movement came.

She ran to the bedside and pulled Garrett's body off, dropping him to the floor. A large blood spot covered the left breast of the hospital gown.

"Oh god, Martin!" Molly began wildly pinching, poking, and tugging at the gown, attempting to locate the wound. She grew more frantic with each second. Her eyes pinched tight as she said a prayer.

Instantly, she felt a hand rest on hers.

"It's not mine." The comment was barely audible on the air. Her eyes flew open to see Martin inhaling deeply, his hand sitting on hers.

Molly broke down in relief. "I thought I hit you. All that blood..."

He shifted his eyes to his left. She followed until she saw it. There was a hole in the pillow next to his head.

"Nice shot," he breathed. His voice was growing stronger as he continued breathing.

She punched his shoulder. "That's not funny. I could have killed you!"

He rubbed the shoulder, chuckling. "I'm pretty sure that was already the deal if you hadn't taken the shot."

"Not funny."

"Kind of a little." He smoothed the gown and realized the tube was still around his neck. Molly pressed his hand down and proceeded to remove it herself.

"Nobody panic!" hospital security shouted as they stormed the room.

Riggs held up a palm to assure them it was okay as Molly tossed the tube at the foot of the bed. "Nice response time," he teased.

The two guards stared at the scene. Ben pushed his way through them.

"Mom? I got them."

"You should have waited in the hall like I told you," she huffed.

"Good job." Riggs shot him a smile and a thumbs up.

"Don't… Ben, please wait in the hall."

"What, let the kid hang out."

Molly growled low through her teeth. "Martin, there's a body in the corner."

"Oh, right. Hall it is."

Ben sighed and retreated to the hall to wait, running into Bailey as he turned.

"Looks like we missed it," Bailey announced, joining the mayhem of the room. Bowman smiled as he stopped behind her.

"Come on in, join the party," Riggs insisted.

Bailey scanned the room, spotting Murtaugh on the floor. She pointed down at him, while Bowman cleared the two guards from the room.

"He's taking a little nap," Riggs grinned. "Hey, Rog. Wake up!"

After a sigh, Bailey squatted down to shake her Captain awake.

"I don't wanna," Murtaugh murmured before opening his eyes.

"Cap, you alright?" Bailey asked, easing him into a seated position.

Murtaugh turned to see Garrett's body next to him. He immediately stared at Riggs. Martin pointed at Molly and smiled.

"What the hell happened?" Murtaugh demanded.

"That's what I was going to ask you," Bailey admitted.

"Riggs?" Murtaugh grumbled.

Riggs threw his hands up. "I didn't do it. When are you gonna trust me when I say I didn't do it?"

"When you're not ultimately responsible for whatever _it_ is." Murtaugh spotted his gun and made towards it.

"Hey, Rog?" Riggs offered. "You might want to leave that seeing at it's evidence and all."

"What?! Are you kidding me? MY gun?"

"Well, look at the bright side, Rog. The case is solved, AND you get to keep this handsome face around a while longer," Riggs grinned.

"How is that?" Molly glowered at him.

"Well, you killed him… with his gun. You were protecting a police officer so doubtful there would be any jail time. BUT it will take time to go through all the red tape, so you can't be skipping state anytime soon. And what kind of gentleman would I be if I left you here all alone?" Riggs explained, using his fingers for effect.

"So maybe I should have let him kill you?" Molly sniped.

"There was always that option. Not the first choice, but sure." Riggs chuckled.

"Anybody mind if we clear this up so we can get the dead body out of here, before you two start harping on one another like an old married couple?" Bailey interrupted. Bowman nodded agreement.

"I have to go check on Ben," Molly remembered.

"Bowman, go with her. Need to keep this semi by the book," Murtaugh ordered.

* * *

Riggs entered the department to a round of cheers. He took a couple bows on the way to his desk, thanking various folks individually. Cahill approached his desk as the crowd thinned.

"How are you feeling?" she queried.

"Sore… yeah, sore," he retorted.

She nodded, knowing he wasn't going to be fully honest.

"Kind of surprised you let me back on duty so soon. Isn't there some kind of minimum?" he admitted.

"There's one thing I've learned with you, Riggs. You're safer ON the job, then off of it."

He tilted his head side to side, considering her words.

"You may be right, Doc."

She smiled. "I'm always right down the hall when you're ready to talk."

"Got it, Doc," he replied as she started to walk away.

"And Riggs?" She turned back for a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Welcome back."


End file.
